Location: Pico Camp
I woke up this morning feeling worse than I did yesterday. I got sick as soon as I crawled out of my tent just before Noon. I packed everything up immediately and returned to the Blue 4Runner to say goodbye to Charlie, Outlaw, Ninja and Thirsty. I could barely focus enough to say goodbye or say that I had a good time and thank you. I tried to drink water, but I felt queasy. I left my pack and wandered down a side trail a couple hundred yards to be alone. I explored a couple of run down cabins. They had been trashed over the years by teenagers and hikers. I’m surprised that they are still standing. I sat at a busted window in one of them and waited until I got sick. I threw up all of the water that I had drunk this morning. After feeling a little better, I meandered towards the truck. When I got to the parking lot, Charlie and Ninja had taken the truck into Rutland to shop and get a fax for Charlie. I saw this as my opportunity to leave. Thirsty and Outlaw were sitting in the empty parking space. I said goodbye and took a picture of them. I finally returned to the woods. I hiked to the summit of Pico and found the shelter. I dragged the whole way up the mountain and could barely open my mouth enough to say hello to passing hikers. I felt terrible. I reached the shelter and considered continuing, but eventually I decided against leaving.
Pico Camp shelter is fully enclosed. It is like a cabin in the woods. It has three windows facing the same way that look over the ski slopes of Killington. There are four wooden bunks and a table. The shelter really is quite nice. I arrived here at about 3:30pm. I set up my air mattress and my sleeping bag. Shortly after arriving, I had my first spell of sickness. I charged out the door and threw up on the lawn. I tried to drink water if only to wash my mouth. I threw up every sip that went into my body. I couldn’t eat or drink. Over the hours until nightfall, repeatedly I ran from the shelter and purged my body. My body rejected everything that I had put into it over the last few days of binge drinking. I emptied my stomach of everything but bile, and that yellow bile erupted too in a painful series of violent dry heaves that felt as though someone pounded my stomach with a sledgehammer. I sweated all night and felt queasy every time I thought about alcohol. I tried to change the subject of my wandering mind. Each time it returned to beer. If I rolled even the slightest bit in bed, my stomach and throat would tell me it is time to throw up again. Sometimes sitting up in bed helped, but I felt miserable all night.